Godzilla: Kaiju SOS
by 10a3k
Summary: When Kaiju start disappearing across the globe, Godzilla, Rodan, Battra, Biollante and Varan transfer their essences into the bodies of five humans across the globe so they can investigate the disappearances while not being captured themselves. This is my second fanfic. Hope you guys like it. Please review.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue.

Mothra sat atop the Tokyo Skytree, surveying the entirety of the bustling city as the sun's light faded into night. She listened to the sounds of Tokyo and heard cries for help far across the vast city. Her magnificent multihued wings opened and she took off into the night.

Mothra's oblique path brought her closer to the cries. Her antennae flicked from side to side, absorbing the sounds of the city. Once she had found the sound she was looking for, she turned sharply in mid - air and shot towards the cries like a insectoid bullet.

The citizens of Tokyo looked up at her and cried in shock and awe. Mothra paid them no heed. Though she would always protect and serve the human race, she cared little for them as individuals. That's not why she had been created for.

As she quietly rounded the corner, a blazing tower came in to view. Ten out of the 40 stories were on fire and they were the bottom ten, making the top 30 stories look like they were floating on a bloated rubicund bonfire.

Screams of terror pierced the air as Mothra drifted to a halt right before the flames. Slowly but surely, she began to flap her wings, getting faster and faster.

Her wings stirred up the air, creating short sharp winds that blasted the fire, buffeting it. Mothra beat her wings faster still, rapidly increasing the strength of the winds, which soon became gales.

The gales washed over the flames, starving them of oxygen and before long, they were extinguished.

Her work done in Tokyo, Mothra glided away from the city and out over the glistening sea, towards the twilight sun. The sea and sky faded from bright blue to black within minutes, but Mothra didn't mind. She relied on hearing more than sight anyway.

She flew on across the ocean the pitch black night, never tiring and never growing hungry. As she sensed the continent of North America in the distance, a great shock went through her body.

Startled, Mothra forgot to flap her wings and she plummeted out of the sky. At the last minute before she hit the ocean, she spread her wings and soared back up into the sky. She wheeled around in mid - air and scanned the ocean for the source of the threat.

As she listened for signs of activity, a great arc of blue electricity shot out of the ocean's surface. This time she was ready, however. As the arc approached, the silver scales on Mothra's abdomen peeled off and formed a barrier between her and the blast.

The electricity hit her scales and rebounded sharply, hurtling back to its source, which it hit with a blinding flash. Just to be sure, Mothra fire a toxic dart at the source from her abdomen, then she sailed on through the otherwise tranquil night.

Mothra reached the West Coast of North America and flew down towards the ground. She touched down on the ground and immediately, silver cables sprung out of the lush green grass and tied her up. Mothra squeaked in protest and struggled to get free, but the cables shot iridescent sparks into her body.

She shuddered wildly but the sparks kept on coming until she could take no more. Mothra slumped into unconscious and collapsed into the grass, which opened up, dropping her into oblivion.


	2. The Beginning

The Beginning.

Godzilla, Rodan and Varan sat in a circle in a vast cavern deep within the Japanese countryside. In between them lay a massive man - made pit with Japanese characters carved around the rim. Varan looked nervously into the pit, his green snout crumpling.

" I don't know about this. Is it really necessary?", he whined. " We must all do this, Varan. Otherwise we will disappear too", Godzilla responded.

" Surely we could overcome anyone who tries to make us disappear. Especially you, Godzilla", said Rodan. " Yes. But we need to find out what happened to the others". "Do we really Godzilla? And how will this process help us? The humans won't know they contain our essence", Varan said.

Godzilla sighed. " They will find out soon enough. We will do our best to help them". At that he closed his eyes and with a irritated sigh, Varan and Rodan closed their eyes also.

The characters around the rim began to glow and one by one, the three Kaijiu jumped into the pit and vanished in a flash of blue light.

Hundreds of miles away, in Tonga, Battra and Biollante squatted at the bottom of a narrow well, kneeling over a hole in the ground filled with murky water. " This is very unnecessary. Why did I agree to do this?", Biollante muttered.

" Because we do not want to disappear like Mothra did. Anyway, it shouldn't be too hard for you. You're part human anyway". Biollante hissed menacingly, spewing her radioactive sap all over the well walls.

" Yes. I wouldn't want to be fully human though".

" You won't be fully human. Your essence will simply be kept safe in a human body until the human learns about you and releases you when the time is right. Now, jump into the hole".

" It probably won't even work", she uttered.

" It will. We combined human blood with Destoroyah's blood and then cast the necessary spells, so it will definitely work".

Sighing, Biollante jumped into the hole and vanished with a splash of mudwater. Battra followed her ten seconds later and vanished also.

Corey's Perspective:

Strident noises shook my pillow, rousing me from a cosy, dreamless sleep.

" Corey. Get up. It's time for school". I groaned and pulled myself out of bed. Slipping on a pair of blue slippers, I padded downstairs into the marble kitchen. The smell of cooking food permeated the air.

My dad looked up from the eggs he was frying and smiled at me. " Sit down, Corey. Breakfast will be ready soon". Trying to suppress my drooling, I sat across from my other dad, who was reading the New York Times.

I guess I should back up a bit. My name's Corey Ornsson - Jones, I'm thirteen years old and I live in Manhattan with my dads Nick and Lowell Ornsson - Jones. They adopted me when I was a baby from a Japanese orphanage in Nagasaki.

Normally, I wouldn't say I'm short, but I am much smaller than both my dads and most of my friends ( even the female ones ). In addition to my shortness, I also have very short bleach - blond hair. All in all, I wouldn't have described myself as being very exceptional, until that day.

Nick placed a plate loaded with fried eggs, sausages, mushrooms, bacon and fried tomatoes, their juices sizzling and the whole ensemble coated in a film of melted butter, just the way I liked it. FYI, this is what I have every morning before school. And at weekends. And sometimes in the evenings as well. Anyway...

I wolfed down the fry ravenously, then grabbed my bag off the black marble breakfast bar. " See you after I come back from Daragh's house".

" By sweetie", Lowell answered, giving me a hug while his green eyes twinkled. Breaking off the hug, I bolted out the door.

Lowell's Perspective:

I shook my head. " That boy is always in such a rush". I turned back to a particularly interesting article on anthropology.

Corey's Perspective:

I strolled towards the bus stop as swollen rain clouds scudded across the sky. Raindrops glanced off my shoulders as I sat in the filthy bus shelter, waiting for the bus to arrive.

After waiting for what felt like an age, I checked my watch and realised if I waited any longer, I'd be late for school. Deciding to take the subway instead, I pulled myself off the narrow red bench and trudged towards the nearest subway station.

By the time I reached the station, the rain had thickened into a deluge and I jumped inside, shoulders hunched. Very quickly, I bought a ticket and jumped on a subway to the nearest stop to my school.

As I boarded, there was a strange blue flash in front of my eyes and I staggered, face planting into the train. The other passengers gave me weird and slightly disgusted looks as I picked myself up.

" So sad, the way teenagers drink these days. We're passing the world onto a generation of alcoholics", an older lady in frumpy clothes with an even frumpier hairdo muttered from her seat in front of me to her travelling companion.

" Shut up", I murmured back.

" Excuse me."

" Nothing", I replied and took a seat.

I arrived in school about twenty minutes later and trudged in the doorway onto a filthy nylon carpet. My school looked nice on the outside, but it was just a regular school, and a crappy school at that.

Stepping over a banana mushed into the carpet, I ran into the captain of the school football team and the biggest bully in the school, Mike Bosworth.

" Hey, watch it, ass wipe". He shoved me onto the floor and his jock friends sniggered. In my mind's eye, I pictured them as pigs stuffed into letter jackets. Another image popped into my head that made me smile; one of the jock pigs on a platter with apples stuffed in their mouths.

" Get up, Ornsson, you little chicken. Take it like a man". I sighed and stood up wearily, preparing myself for my daily grind. Mike loomed a couple heads over me, his hard blue eyes glaring meanly at me.

He grabbed my shoulders with his baseball - mitt sized hands and shoved me to the floor again. With a smirk on his face, Mike and his cronies wailed on me for a good ten minutes. I did my best to shield myself from their blows, not that it did much good.

" Hey! HEY!" Through a labyrinth of beefy fingers, I saw my biology teacher, Mr. Grimes running over and pulling Bosworth and co. off me.

" Detention this Saturday. All of you." They all grumbled and shot murderous looks at me. But they dared not do a thing, now that Mr. Grimes was here.

He was a large man, about 6"4" and very muscular. There was a rumour around the school that he used to be a professional football player, which I knew to be false as he told he started working in James Buchanan High straight after he graduated from college.

" Come on, up you get now, Corey." He pulled me effortlessly to my feet and I dusted myself off.

" So, do I need to call home or...?" I shook my head vociferously.

" No. Please don't. I don't want my dads finding out about this. It'd just worry them". Grimes sighed wearily.

" Corey, you can't let them get away with this."

" What? They're getting detention, thanks to you".

" Yes, thanks to me. You need to learn to stand up for yourself, or else you'll be bullied for your whole life." I sighed and turned away, massaging an angry bruise that was materialising on my cheek.

" Better get to the nurse", I muttered and hurried off with my head down. Grimes' disappointed expression adhered to the front of my mind.

Corey's Perspective:

I slunk into geography class, avoiding everybody's gazes like the plague. Sliding into a seat in the back corner, I took out my books and stared deliberately at the page about economic inequality. Thankfully, the teacher, Ms. Lambert didn't say anything.

A few people snuck furtive glances at me, but I did my best to focus on ( or at least look at) my geography book. I reflected gloomily on what Grimes had said. It was all true, I guess, but that didn't mean that I was going to accept the fact that it was. Besides, I enjoyed throwing pity parties for myself and I wasn't going to rid myself of something that I enjoyed.

A great sigh issued from my lungs and rustled the pages of the book. Suddenly, an intense burning sensation engulfed my throat and I gagged loudly. Now everyone stared at me unabashedly.

" Are you okay Corey?", the teacher asked. Globules of saliva poppled out of my mouth. Chair legs scraped cacophonously across the ground as Ms. Lambert hurried over.

I retched, splattering my desk and the surrounding floor with strangely blue saliva. Ms. Lambert pulled me to my feet, her heart - shaped face white with fright.

" Come on Corey. We're taking you to the nurse's." I wrenched my arm out of her grip.

" I'll make my own way there. I don't need help." Still coughing up blue spit, I staggered out of the classroom, followed by a plethora of stares. I managed to stumble a few feet more before collapsing in the middle of the corridor, panting. Placing my hands on the floor, I began to push myself back to my feet.

Suddenly, a sharp stab of pain struck me in the abdomen and I doubled over once again. The walls of my trachea heated to searing temperatures and my teeth felt like they were going to melt. I couldn't take much more.

Without warning, the temperature of my respiratory system dropped rapidly and a coruscating plume of bright blue fire burst out of my mouth and hit the wall with a crackle and a resounding boom. Dust trickled from the ceiling as the building shook, while I stared in disbelief at the sprawling burn on the wall.

There was sounds of unrest from the classes and, not wanting to be blamed for the wall being burnt ( even if it evidently was my fault ), I bolted off down the corridor.


	3. A Strange Night in Paris

A Strange Night in Paris

( All dialogue in this chapter is actually in French)

Etienne's Perspective:

I hurried through the dark back alleys of Montmartre, clutching the cash I had stolen close to my chest. Azure blue lights flashed behind me, spurring me to run quicker.

Quick biography of myself. My name is Etienne Bastien and I'm sixteen years old. I've been homeless and living off stolen money for two years now, ever since my parents kicked me out. I'd come out as transgender a year before and they had not been happy about it. They refuse to acknowledge my true gender and prevented me from getting support, but I still tried anyway. This culminated in them kicking me out, their own son.

Suddenly, a siren blared particularly loud behind me and I, startled by it, tripped over a bin bag lying in the middle of the alley. I quickly scrambled to my feet and jumped into a nearby doorway as the police cars rolled by.

When the lights and sirens had faded into the distance, I breathed a sigh of relief. A sharp stabbing pain erupted in my sole of my left foot. Taking a closer look, I discovered a rather large piece of glass stuck in my heel, stained scarlet by my blood. I grimaced as the pain set in properly and, cursing loudly, I limped back to my squat.

A long winding smear of blood trailed in my wake. I was in too much pain to worry about leaving a trail to my hideout now, though I was sure to regret it later. Turning a filthy corner, I came upon the small, dilapidated hovel that functioned as my " home".

With a great deal of effort, I dragged myself through the crumbling doorway and collapsed onto the grubby stolen rug that I used as a bed. A soft rustling noise came from the corner and a tall, scrawny Arabic boy stepped into the beam of moonlight shining through the roof.

" Oh, hey Muhammad." He looked at me absent - mindedly.

" Stole some money did you?"

" Yes, I did." On that note, I split the money in half and placed the half in my left hand into a hole in the floor and covered it with a ragged jacket. Muhammad looked lazily at it.

" Not gonna try and hide it properly."

" What's the point? You're so high now you simply won't remember later".

" I'm not high". He rubbed his nose looking rather guilty, causing a small cloud of white powder to puff into the air beside him.

" Hmm. Well, when you're done squandering my hard stolen money, could you get some food?" Muhammad nodded dreamily, then drifted back to the shady corner from whence he had came.

Cursing him internally, I pulled my self to my feet, only to be toppled once more by the massive shard of glass stuck in my foot. I shrieked in pain as it plunged even deeper into my foot, spilling thick hot blood all over the already squalid. Pulling on the shard in a vain attempt to pull it out of my foot just caused me even more agony, while probably causing irreparable nerve and blood vessel damage as well.

Casting my eyes upward, I beheld Muhammad standing in an aureole of silver, staring glassily at me.

" Do you have any coke left by any chance?"

The last thing I saw before I passed out was Muhammad's vacant eyes looking at me through a silver porthole in the darkness.

Jeanne Lambert's Perspective:

Hugo clutched my arm in a vice - like grip as we descended the steps of Sacre Coeur, muttering darkly about the black street vendors hanging around waiting to pounce on unsuspecting tourists.

" Disgraceful...sullying the name of one of the country's national landmarks...must send a letter to the mayor about this".

" Oh, shut up Hugo!" I proclaimed rather loudly. Surprise stretched his massively wrinkled face, quickly replaced with embarrassment then a comically stern look in his moist grey eyes.

" Jeanne, keep it down. We're in public".

" I will as soon as you stop going on about the street vendors". Hugo spluttered, beads of spit spraying from his prune - like mouth.

" But they are a serious issue. We cannot let them tarnish Sacre Coeur's image".

Sick to death of my shrivelled, bigoted husband, I gazed upon the magnificent view of night-time Paris spread out below me and breathed in a gulp of balmy air. My eyes settled on the base of the hill, taking in the various apartment buildings that housed so many artists over the centuries.

A bright burst of green light erupted from a darker area of Montmartre, startling me and causing me to stagger out of Hugo's grip. He looked at me in astonishment and mild concern.

" Are you alright, dear?" My eyes flicked up and around, suddenly unaware of where I was. Hugo, being easily frightened as he was, panicked.

" Help! HELP! My wife's having a stroke!" I blinked a few times, looking around properly this time and comprehending that I was still on the steps of Sacre Coeur. My view was soon blocked by a plethora of concerned bystanders summoned by my insufferable spouse.

" Hush, Hugo. I'm fine. I just got... a little shock". I waved away help from the irritatingly helpful bystanders and stood up all by myself ( not a bad achievement for a seventy - nine year old, at least according to the imbeciles around me).

Shaking myself out, I stared at the spot where the light had came from. It was pitch black again. Convinced I had imagined it, I continued down the steps through the quickly dispersing crowds.

Etienne's Perspective:

Pristine white light flooded my retinas as my eyelids retracted. Slowly but surely, my eyes adjusted to the stark light shining on me. It appeared I was in some sort of hospital, hooked up to a variety of machines and, through a window in the beige door, I saw various medical personnel milling around me.

A kindly looking black nurse entered my room. " Anything I can do for you, my dear?"

I sat up and rubbed my aching head. " Where am I?"

" Hopital Americain de Paris. You were brought here after you were found overdosed on drugs and bleeding out in Montmartre."

I looked down at my foot, which was heavily swathed in bandages.

" How much blood did I lose?" The nurse's smile slipped momentarily, before springing back into place, albeit looking a bit false this time.

" Oh, don't you worry about that. You've been given a blood transfusion and you'll be fine."

" What about the cocaine overdose? Am I going to be questioned or something?" Her smile froze and conflicting emotions battled viciously behind her pupils.

" Would you like some food? Maybe a salad or something to help replenish your blood? Yes, I think you need a salad. I'll be back in two ticks." With that, she hurried out the door, looking very suspicious.

I waited apprehensively in my bed, the never-ending beeping and whirring from the machines surrounding me exacerbating my nervousness. After a minute or so, I decided I wasn't going to wait for my doom and proceeded to frantically pull on every tube and cord coming out of me.

I heard approaching footsteps and looked up to see a pair of suited men entering the room, led by the little black nurse. The tubes flopped onto the floor as I sat up, ready to deal with these assholes.

" What happened to the salad you were going to get me?" The little nurse shot me a cross look, then pottered off to assist another patient.

One of the men, a portly middle - aged man with a lazy left eye, appraised me very obviously. The other, a young handsome with a shaven head, smiled at me.

" Hello. I'm Detective Garnier and this Detective Lambert. We'd like to ask you a few questions." I considered making a break for it, but they looked harmless enough so I decided to stay and cooperate.

" Hi. I'm Etienne Bastien. How can I help you?" A flicker of confusion passed across Garnier's face and remained resolutely on Lambert's, causing an unusual but familiar mixture of annoyance and discomfort to percolate inside me.

" Yes, I'm a boy, despite what outward appearances may suggest", I snapped venomously.

" Mind your tongue, young lady. We're policemen. You should show some respect". I was suddenly filled with an urge to strangle the old bastard, but I kept it under control.

" I told you. I'm not a boy". An intense burning started between my eyes.

Lambert glared at me with his pale grey eyes while a weary - looking Garnier pulled out a notebook. " So can you tell me what you were doing out in the streets of Montmartre alone at midnight overdosed on cocaine and with a shard of glass stuck in your foot."

My initial cooperative intentions were now rapidly fading and I glowered furiously at him. " None of your f*&^ing business, asshole". With a burst of strength that surprised me as much as them, I stood up, ripping the remaining tubes attached to me and causing the floor to crack. Both detectives looked at little taken aback by that.

" How... did you do that?" I looked at the floor in surprise.

" I... legitimately don't know". The two detectives starting back away, looking very nervous. White hot heat surged in my glabella and a incandescent arc of red yellow energy burst out of my glabella and it exploded onto the door, leaving a smoking sunburst in its wake.

Lambert fell flat on his ass. In spite of myself, I sniggered. " What the f^%*?!" He looked at me in horror.

" What are you? You can't be human. You can't be!" He burst out of the room, yelling that I wasn't human! Soon I was doubled over with laughter. Garnier looked at me bemusedly.

" Well. That was quite... something". His well - proportioned face was an odd off white colour and he looked completely nonplussed. I felt a little sorry for him, but he was definitely going to send me gift - wrapped to some dubious government lab now.

Definitely not wanting this to come to pass, I pushed open the door and bolted down the corridor. Garnier, now recovered from his shock, shouted at me to stop, but I hurtled on. Sliding around a corner, I slammed into a group of blue - scrubbed nurses and we went down in a cascade of flailing bodies. I shouldered my way out of the pile and attempted to regain my footing. However, it seemed my little gallivant had torn my stitches, causing gleaming erubescent gore to bloom across the otherwise pristine linoleum floor and making me unable to stand up.

A very miffed - looking Garnier rounded the corner behind him. Once he saw all the blood on the floor however, his features hitched themselves into concern and he hurried to my side.

" Are you okay?" I pushed him feebly, trying and failing to get to my feet again.

" Get off me. I don't need your help".

" Appearances suggest otherwise". I loured beams of pure hatred at him, then tried to get up one last time. Predictably, I slipped back down into the pool of my own bodily fluid once more.

" F**************^&!" White heat flared behind my brow and I fell completely flat against the floor. Pearly fingers pulled at the margin of my vision, begging me to pass out. I battled them viciously, but the hellfire in my head wasn't making it any easier.

I felt something brush my foot. Whipping around, I beheld Garnier crouched beside me holding a sterile wipe. For some reason, irrational anger fired like a Bunsen burner within me.

" I said, LEAVE ME ALONE!" The fingers turned purple and melded into an opaque wall in front of my eyes. When it cleared, I viewed an unconscious Garnier spread- eagled face down in front of me, round burn marks sizzling on his back. Similar burn marks were dotted across the walls, the floor and various other unconscious people arranged around me. The few who had survived whatever happened were looking at me in terror and backing away.

Strangely, I know felt perfectly lucid and the pain in my foot was gone. Examining my foot, I learned my wound had healed completely. That was... odd. The sound of running feet jerked me back to reality. Knowing that the doctors had probably called in back up, I decided to leg it.

This time, I managed to make it quite far before the SWAT team caught up with me. Alas, they still caught up with me. Within seconds I was surrounded by black clad men, all of them pointing guns at me.

" Move, and we open fire." I took this command very literally and froze. Didn't look like I was getting out of this one ( unless of course I had anymore hidden powers). As if on cue, I felt something expanding inside my legs. I looked as a wave of black energy erupted from my legs and hurled the SWAT team against the wall. They all slumped to the ground, out cold.

I stood there for a minute, staring at the prone bodies in shock. Then I remembered myself and kept on running.

The transparent automatic doors opened as I ran towards them. I hurried down the steps into the noisy street and turned a corner. Something soft and long collided with me and we both toppled onto the pavement. I helped my collidee, who happened to be a tall elderly lady, to her feet.

" Can I have a ride?" She looked at me like I was crazy, then sighed.

" Alright, dear". She opened the back door of her silver Citroen and I hopped in without a second thought.

" Step on it?"


	4. Throwing Caution to the Winds

Throwing Caution to the Winds

* All the dialogue in this chapter is actually spoken in Turkish.

Esen's Perspective:

I stumbled out of the Merek Serit nightclub on Asmali Mescit and promptly vomited onto the footpath. People passing on their way into Merek Serit looked at me in distaste and skirted around me. I smiled apologetically, then threw up again.

" Esen. I told you this was a bad idea". A shadow fell across me and I looked up to see my boyfriend Mahir Demirci standing over me. He grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. The smell of vomit started to diffuse through the air, making my nostrils burn.

" At least we had fun!" On that, I tripped over my own feet and face planted into my own vomit. Mahir gave me a stern look.

" Okay, so maybe I over did it. It's not like I hurt anybody."

" Yet". I rolled my eyes.

" We're going home now. You've had more than enough".

" But..." He grabbed my arm and steered towards the end of the street, where he called our limo. Well, while we're waiting, I might as well introduce myself.

My name is Esen Kartal, I'm twenty - seven years old and I live in Istanbul in Turkey. This night was going to be the last night where my life resembled normal. Not that my alcohol - infested mind realised that at the time.

Mahir helped me into the back of the limo, then climbed in after me. Unfortunately, I vomited again and the stink quickly made the air unbreathable.

" Could you turn on the air freshener?" Mahir called to the driver. He obliged and within a few minutes the air had become tolerable again. Mahir turned to me with his " We're going to have a serious conversation now " face. I prepared for the ordeal.

" Esen, I know you're going through a lot right now, but alcohol never solved anything. You've been sober for five years. You don't want to fall off the wagon now."

" And I won't, I just... needed to get away from it all for awhile, okay." With that, the feelings that the alcohol had done such a good job of suppressing start to trickle back into my brain. I sobbed and Mahir put his arm around me.

" It'll be okay, Esen. If your parents can't accept you for who you really are, then they deserve to be your parents". I rested my head against his chest and let my tears leak onto his silk shirt.

The limo dropped us at Mahir's family home, a five - storey mansion in Bebek.

" Are you sure they'll be okay with me staying here?"

" Relax. I'm sure they will, and even if they aren't, they out of town for a couple of weeks so, I have the house to myself." He helped me up the steps and into the foyer, a vision in yellow and green marble. After setting me down on the Turkish couch in the corner, he hurried into the kitchen to fetch me some water.

While I waited, I looked at my reflection in the multitude of mirrors that hung in the atrium. Obviously the Demircis had a history of narcissism. In each, I looked terrible, pale as a ghost and my eyes rimmed with dull crimson. Turns out I was a little on the vain side too, as I quickly looked away.

Mahir came back in, looking rather flustered. His clothes were soaked through and his dark curls were so wet they released spurts of water with every step. Being a loving boyfriend however, he still had a glass of water in his left hand.

I laughed in spite of myself. " What happened?" He frowned at me.

" It's seems the plumbing got as drunk as you tonight, as it sure is throwing up as violently as you". Mirth wracked my torso, causing me to throw up again, this time onto Mahir.

Still trembling, I jumped to my feet. " I'm so sorry. Let me clean that up". I grabbed one of the cushions and tried to mop the vomit off him, but I just ended up batting him a few times, then throwing up again.

After some more apologising, Mahir escorted me to bed with a basin and promised to join me when I had vomited my fill. I lay in Mahir's satin - sheeted four poster bed, staring the azure domed ceiling and reflecting on the past twenty four hours. One thing I knew for sure, I had one pretty bad day today.

It had started with Mahir and me arriving at my parents' house, intending to tell them about our relationship. I was pretty nervous, as my parents were pretty strict Muslims.

" It'll be alright, Esen", Mahir reassured me as we ascended the basalt steps. " You're their son. They're not going to reject you".

Cut to two hours, when Mahir and I descended the same basalt steps. Or rather Mahir carried me down the steps as I was weak from crying. Turns out, Mahir had been wrong. Very, very wrong. As it happened, they straight up disowned me on the spot once I had told them.

I collapsed onto the footpath and Mahir looked down at me sadly. " Look Esen, I'm so sorry. That was a terrible thing they did. But you can't give up hope". I looked at him, my eyes streaming.  
" Hope! What hope?! I don't even have a place to live anymore, plus there's the small fact my parents disowned me!" Mahir sighed.

" You can stay at my place for now. But, Esen." I looked up at him once more. " You must promise me not to start drinking again". And, of course, we know how that turned out.

A sparking noise jolted me out of my reverie. I cast my gaze around the room, but everything seemed normal. Then I heard it again. And again. And again.

The sounds got more and more frequent and yet I still couldn't figure out where it was coming from. Finally, I looked at my hands and finally found the source of the noise. A cloud of brown sparks was forming around my hands. As I watched, the cloud spread, covering my arms, chest, legs and finally my head until all I could see was sparkling brown.

Now you would expect me to be freaking out, but honestly I was too drunk, tired and sad to care what happened to me then, no matter how strange it was. That quickly changed, of course.

Suddenly, the sparks disappeared with a gust of wind, which blew the covers off me. At that moment, Mahir walked in wearing a dressing gown. He frowned.

" Do you feel better now? I'll make you something to eat if you want." I stared at him.

" What? Oh. No, thank you. I don't feel better. The wind blew off the covers".

" The windows closed." I registered this reality.

" Oh. Right , yes. It was open, then I closed it when it blew my covers off. "

" No. It was closed when I put you to bed. " I opened my mouth to respond, but was unable to think of anything to say that would sound plausible. Mahir looked at me suspiciously, then sighed resignedly.

" Well, I guess it doesn't matter.". I smiled happily for the first time since this morning.

" No, it definitely doesn't". At that, Mahir took off his dressing gown and got into the bed.

Esen's Perspective:

My eyes flickered open and were immediately impaled by searing rays of sunlight. I quickly squeezed my eyes shut. Oh, hangovers were a killer. Stumbling out of the bed, I tip - toed shakily out of the bedroom so I wouldn't wake Mahir.

Of course, when I arrived in the expansive kitchen, Mahir was waiting for me with a full breakfast laid out on the table. Oh, how I love him.

" Thanks, babe." I sat down rather heavily in the nearest chair and tucked into some sucuk. Mahir smiled gratefully.

" You're welcome, Esen. I thought you might appreciate..." My stomach lurched loudly and violently. Mahir's smile collapsed into a slack vision of disappointment. I smiled apologetically, but then my stomach lurched again.

Running for the toilets, my cheeks swelled, desperately trying to keep me from projectile vomiting. Thankfully, this time I made it to the bathroom, where I hurled vomit violently from my mouth. It hit the water with a dramatic splash, splattering the beautifully tiled walls with vomit solution.

Once I had vomited my fill, I straightened up and viewed my handiwork with distaste. The droplets slid slowly down the walls like vile slugs, gathering into a murky puddle seething with pungency. I quickly got out of there. I know, a good boyfriend would have cleaned up the mess, but you didn't smell or see what I did.

Mahir gave a derisive look as I emerged. " Don't tell me what I think I heard happening actually happened." I looked at my feet and Mahir sighed. That's the one thing I hate about Mahir. He never gets angry, he just sighs.

" Look Mahir. You can't expect me to be perfectly fine after what happened. I'm not you. So I'm a messy vomiter. Big deal! I think I deserve to vomit a little messily". I gesticulated wildly to emphasise my point.

Suddenly, a blast of wind issued from my arms, sending Mahir flying into the kitchen table. I stared at my arms in shock.

Mahir staggered out of the ruins of the beautifully laid table, looking rather concussed. I ran to him.

" I'm so sorry. I've no idea how that happened. Or what happened." Mahir looked at me, his pupils uneven.

" Why are there two of you? Why are you melting? You look..." He folded to the floor, a trickle of saliva drip from his mouth. I cringed, wanting to help him but also cautious about moving my arms in case I set off another blast of wind.

Slowly and carefully, I wrapped my arms around him and lifted him gently. He was as pale as death, with a thread of red sewing its way down his face. I needed to get him the hospital asap. Unfortunately, my parents had rescinded my right to drive the car they bought for me as well as their love, so I had no means of transport.

It seems I was pretty determined though, because as I thought this, I lifted into the air completely unsupported. I was out the door and floating over Istanbul before I realised what was truly happening.

" What...?" My surprise and shock was incalculable, but then I remembered Mahir was dying in my arms, and decided to leave my shock and surprise until he was safe.


End file.
